


Wait

by epkitty



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Masturbation, Other, Sexual Identity, Slashy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-28
Updated: 2011-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk is friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Tarot card 12, The Hanged Man.
> 
> Decidedly inspired (should you choose to call it that) by the new kickass movie.
> 
> OMG, can I just say two words? KARL URBAN
> 
> When I originally posted this story at my LJ, I did so with the pairing McCoy/liquor.

Leonard McCoy had always identified himself as a heterosexual, which wasn't perhaps the wisest choice, seeing as just about his favorite thing in the world was getting bent over double and fucked in the ass by a big-dicked guy like there was no tomorrow.

Not that it mattered, seeing as he hadn’t bothered to get laid in more than three years. But damn that was a long time to sit around brooding. And every time he thought about taking a more vested interest in his shore leave opportunities, the echoes of his past came back to haunt him, keeping him manacled to his bottle like a suckling babe, hardly daring to move from his room, lest temptation pass his way on the streets below.

He was a psychologist, too, and knew he should know better, but ideals ingrained since childhood were hard to fight. He remembered little things, his mother’s disapproving looks, the disgusted moue of her lips, an uncle’s grumbling, his father’s threatening fists.

It didn’t matter what his teachers taught him about genetics or anything else, what his friends thought or said. Some part of McCoy felt unnatural, dirty, monstrous.

So he clenched his teeth and turned away from tempting thoughts.

For some reason, the bottle was always so welcoming, the cool mouth of the glass, the slender neck, and the warm kiss of loving liquor over desperate lips, into hungering mouth, to heat him – not quite like sex, but almost as good.

It didn't help having a best friend like James T. Kirk, irrepressibly heterosexual and yet oozing sex at every look, every move, every word. McCoy had worked hard to build up an immunity to this force, because Jim Kirk was the most valuable friend he'd ever had, but when his resistance slipped, when a look from Kirk hit him just so, McCoy turned tail to his bunk where his loyal liquor waited.

He wasn't immune to imagining though, and sometimes even the liquid languishment couldn't tamp down the arousal.

Buzzed and over-tired and alone in his impersonal Starfleet room, he touches himself, all the shame and guilt of years gone by meshing unkindly with his desperate wanting.

He'd joined Starfleet to get away from so much. From his wife, his practice, his family, his regrets and mistaken ideals.

He'd gained more than he thought he would, but not enough.

Not yet.

He was still waiting.

= = = = =

The End


End file.
